Echoes of Mourning
by Heroicagal
Summary: The Doctor knows death is a constant in his life. It is his only constant companion. Of all the deaths he has seen one seems to have affected him more than all the others and he can't quite seem to put this ghost to rest: the one of his loyal friend and companion, Jamie McCrimmon. Possible OOC Doctor but mostly out of grief and mourning.


Death was a constant in his life. The Doctor knew that. He knew that very well. He sat there and stared blankly at the wall, his multicolored coat mocking him with its bright colors. It was so lively, so vibrant, and so _wrong_. These colors, the _world_ didn't seem to understand what he had lost today.

He was gone. The boy grown into a man who had made a permanent place in his hearts was gone. In that day, his loyal, foolish Jamie had gone and done what he had always done. He saved the Doctor. With it he lost his own life right before the Doctor's very eyes. Anger and frustration filled him. He was helpless. Just like Adric he had had to sit and watch a dear friend die before his very eyes. No, not a friend. Today he had lost a son. In his rage he smashed the items decorating his room and shattered the priceless artifacts he had gathered throughout his travels. He raged and destroyed and pounded his fists against the walls. Something tumbled out of the drawers he hit and rolled on the floor. It was a recorder, well used but just patiently awaiting the time where further playing would come. The simple melody of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" sounded from centuries ago in his soft whistle with an ending in "Shave and Haircut". He waited for the call back response. The "Two Bits" never came. In his anguish he yelled in pain and threw the recorder against the wall. It smashed into four pieces. _"Funny."_ The Doctor thought in his somewhat only half lucid mind. _"That's how many pieces my hearts are in."_

"Doctor?" A hesitant knock on the door sounded from outside. He moaned internally. As much as he cared for and appreciated Peri Brown, he wasn't ready to talk. "Doctor, let me in. Please?" She begged quietly.

"I can't." He murmured back.

"Why?" Peri asked sadly.

"You'll die." He whispered too softly for her to hear. Stupidly enough, she did.

* * *

"Doctor, who is Jamie McCrimmon?" Rose Tyler asked. The Doctor abruptly stood up and hit his head on the bottom of the console.

"What? Why would you ask that?" His voice came out almost in a panicked rush.

"It's just 'cause, y'know. You normally call yourself John Smith but you went all Scottish and called yourself 'Jamie McCrimmon'." Rose supplied. The Doctor frowned.

"Did I?" He asked and looked down at his shoes.

"Yeah. Was he a friend of yours or somethin' like that?" She asked, noticing the pain lacing his expression. The Doctor grimaced and nodded.

"Something like that." Rose pressed him further but in this case even she couldn't get him to open up. He wouldn't talk about it. Later that night, as she went to bed, she could've sworn she heard a mournful song echoing from the Doctor's room, a gentle Scottish tune that was beautiful and haunting. She went to open the Doctor's door, but for the first time ever, it was locked to her.

"Doctor?" She asked softly.  
"Not now Rose."

"Doctor please let me in!" She pleaded. The Doctor laughed.

"I can't." He said sorrowfully.

"Why not?" She asked, still jiggling the handle.

"'Cause you'll die." Came the small response.

"What?" She asked, terrified now.  
"Never mind. Just let me be Rose. I'll be alright. I always am."

Of course, later, Rose might as well have died on him. She lived but always and forever away from him.

* * *

"Doctor, look what I found to put Rory in!" Amy said jovially.

"I'm letting you know, I was against it from the start. The room looked completely abandoned and out of bounds but Amy didn't care." Rory said as Amy hid him from view.

"Don't be grumpy Rory. You look dashing." Amy said and moved aside with a smile. The Doctor turned, hoping to see Rory in one of his many hats and his breath caught in his throat.

"You didn't tell me you had kilts on the TARDIS." Amy said.

"I don't those were all moved to a very special room that said 'Do Not Disturb'." The Doctor said a bit harshly. Amy's amusement faltered.

"Yeah but…"  
"No 'buts' Amy! I told you some things in the TARDIS were off limits! That room is one of those things!" The Doctor reprimanded and avoided the now kilt wearing Rory. It just hurt too much.

Amy looked hurt.

"Get out of that Rory. You look ridiculous and it's mine anyway." He turned and briskly walked to his room, regret already filling his mind as tears pooled in his eyes.

"_Jamie there is no way I am ever going to where that …that thing! I have dignity!" _He heard a much younger and happier man in a bowtie reprimand.

"_Come on Doctor, ye know ye've always wanted tae be like me."_ A young man teased back. He slammed the door and tried hard not to think about his current Scottish companion's husband in that kilt that had been a gift from his former Scottish companion.

"Doctor?" Came a knock at his now locked door.

"Go away Amy!" The Doctor yelled, overcome with his emotions.

"Doctor, please let me in! What's wrong?" Amy asked and he knew intuitively that Rory was there too.

"I can't." The Doctor replied.

"What?" Amy asked.

"I can't let you in." The Doctor said mournfully.

"Why not?" Rory questioned, confused.

"You'll die too." He said through the door, not willing to take that chance.

"What? Doctor what's wrong?" Amy asked panicked. The Doctor shook his head.

"I'll be fine Amy. Just give me some time. It's always okay in time."

But of course the universe loved to prove him wrong. Amy and Rory died too and he stood at their grave, the cause of their death like Katarina, like Sara, like Adric, like Chameleon, like Peri, like Ace. Like that piper whose loss echoed and hurt in all his regenerations: like James Robert McCrimmon, friend of his soul and son of his hearts.


End file.
